"Come! come! That will never do. You don't take me for a fool, do you? You never could have lived in this country without being either one thing or the other. Are you Union or Secession?"
"I voted for Secession."
"Tell the entire truth."
"Well, sir, I do; I have two sons in Johnson's army. I was an original Secessionist, and I am as good a Southern man as you can find in the State of Tennessee."
"All right, my old friend; just slide down off that horse."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that you are just the man I have been looking for, in walking about a hundred miles—a good Southerner with a good horse! I am a Yankee; we are all Yankees; so slide down, and be quick about it."
Accompanied by the clicking of the rifle, the injunction was not to be despised. The rider came down, the boy mounted and galloped up the road, while the old citizen walked slowly homeward, with many a longing, lingering look behind.
We traveled twenty-five miles to-day, and at night made our camp in the pine woods near Friend's Station.